The Cracked Pot

The Cracked Pot

The light’s on – phew. When I’m in really black books, everywhere and everything is shrouded in darkness. Encouraged I take a deep frosty breath, then I begin my annual  Christmas Walk of Shame.

Humming, ‘Onward Christian Soldiers’, I attempt to keep in a straight line and, despite a couple of unintentional detours, it’s a good effort so I’m optimistic, virtuous even as I try the door handle. Hmm, I try again. Nope, it’s locked. I go round the back. No, that’s locked too. Hmm, perhaps things aren’t as rosy as I first thought.

Brrr, it’s cold; I feel for my hip flask and take a slurp to ward off the chill. Aaah that’s better; my mate, Jack Daniels, always warms the cockles of my heart, and all any other cockles too come to think of it. I’m just humming, ‘Cockles and Mussels Alive Alive-O’, when I remember!  ‘The Cracked Pot Under The Tree’. Ever since we moved here umpteen years ago, our improvised key-safe has been, ‘The Cracked Pot Under The Tree’. Fancy forgetting that,  I must be drunker than I thought. Hmm, well in that case I might just as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I gulp down what’s left of Jack, then stagger zig-zaggedly towards the tree.

There is no tree, there are no pots, cracked or otherwise!  Suddenly I hear a shriek, “Harold, what are you doing in next door’s garden? Get yourself home now you silly old crackpot.”

About the author

kathleeen
191 Up Votes
I've been married to Rob for 45 years, we have two daughters, five wonderful granddaughters and two naughty dogs. I have lots of interests, I love crocheting, knitting and I've just started a rag-rug! My passion though is writing and I'm very proud to say that I've self-published 2 books, 'Doggie Deliberations' is all about my dog's antics, and '...then I'll begin', is an anthology my jottings. I'm looking forward to being a Silver Surfer and I will enjoy reading other Surfers' writing as well as sending in my own scribbles!

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